This ain't you
by Nagy Bari
Summary: A mood painting two shot about two adults who could never get along yet found a way to talk, just didn't feel it was right. Rated T because Middle Europe is Middle and you can do nothing about it.
1. drunk

_Attention:  
Listening to one of these musics can give you a better experience - EDEN - drugs or Childish Gambino - Heartbeat_

* * *

The face he made at the sight of her entering the bar just right after he decided to call it a night and prepared to leave was priceless. She would laugh for sure. Would she see it actually.

Vlad sighed. This is gonna be long.

First signs of the _chaos_ that used that pretty ( _pretty_ but nothing more) body with long chestnut hair and misty forest green eyes swaying its way in and out his life constantly throwing everything apart and whirling up his other way peaceful life completely today… yesterday were a short text.

So yes, she only said she was tired, but he knows her long enough to know what that actually means. He wasn't desperate to see her, that's not why he was sitting in that bar for more than two hours so far. He just felt a drink would do good before he met her.

He couldn't remember when did she start this. This whole " I'm tired, wanna drink?" Actually she wrote " Wanna talk?". So he may or may not initiated to talk in person, and she may or may have not accepted and suggested some drink on the go.

He waved to her and she finally recognized him. Turning his way he could see her face.

Yup, she was done for good.

Sometimes he felt sorry for her somewhere deep, but right after that he concluded she wanted that life, it was hers to deal with. Clearly, none of them was cut out for that life. They were nowhere near "western".

If there's one thing he knows about her that they are clearly "eastern". He may be "eastern-er" even.

So his problem right now was that three glass that he shouldn't have ordered in the end… He was good with alcohol, but sometimes when she decided that meeting "right away" meant she could finish whatever she was doing before, he lost count and a little anger helped the alcohol better than him.

\- Took your sweet time. – he snarled as she put herself down next to him, gracefully as ever, always the woman. Gosh did he hate it.

\- Not that you couldn't figure out what to do. – she didn't even looked at him, waiting for the bartender to take her order. What a wanna-be-queen. She was always good at b*tching. About anything. Deep down he knows, or feels that she has some right to do so.

\- So? What was it today? – he waits until she gets her drink and the bartender leaves. She takes a quick sip, closing her eyes.

\- Does it matter?

\- Dunno.. Does it? – she won't open her eyes.

\- Aren't you a witty little guy.

\- Why else would you come back? – he sneers still boring holes into her skull. Finally she lowers her head and opens her eyes.

\- I thought we talked about that.

\- Why would only you have rules? What if I want to talk about it again? – that earned him a glare. He can see how weak her eyes are.

\- Then you're an idiot.

\- But right on spot.

\- Whatever makes you sleep… - she turns back and he laughs.

\- This certainly doesn't.

\- You can always say no…

\- Like you would let me. – she glares again and this ones is slightly better. Still weak as the summer breeze but at least something. – Look I didn't come here to waste my time so make up your pretty little girly head and tell, why did I have to come here today?

\- It's…

And she starts. She rambles about the insane rules and insufferable coworkers and idiots in the office and scary words mumbled to her ears, threats and dreams, suffocating atmospheres and tiny moments of silence, and how much she hates it.

And he listens the good guy he is, the patient acquaintance, the nobody she found in her contact list years ago and called up by accident. He pats himself on the shoulder he should be declared as a saint. Listening to this was funny with its dark humor and world but listening to it every single time she felt like it, which became more and more frequent, woke up the sleeping thought in him that he deserved something in return.

They talked about it after the second time. He had nothing better to do and she didn't asked for advice or comfort. He didn't mind her stories, actually found them amusing not that he would tell her. Yet. After almost two years of this insane routine meeting all starting with her sending one text only asking if he wanted to talk he felt as if… as if something was above them. As if it was his turn.

She started it. If anyone asked.

So here they were sitting in a bar for about two hours (which makes him about four all together) only she does the speaking, he just sips on his drink and listens or laughs. She lightens up a little, only a little as if the weight on her shoulders got less by a tiny bit and he feels that he _is_ a good guy and this whole situation is absurd. They were never this close… close like helping the other. Actually they were sure the other would kick them to hell and back even if they were forced to help each other. They never got along…

It was funny seeing how time changed anything and everything.

Thinking about it they were always bickering. Isn't that one way to be close?

\- Thanks again. I'll text.

Oh right she was leaving.

\- I want a little break time.

She stops in her way looking at him puzzled.

\- Look I have this work I should finish by the month and there's no guarantee you will survive that long and seriously my work is more important so how about we stop this for a little?

Her face is blank, she finished with her stories, she has this average, "normal" attire-stuff, this nonchalant stare. They watch the other for a minute then she shrugs.

\- Sure.

* * *

The month passed, his job was done, the next one on the way towards his crowded life and he caught himself wondering what might she be doing. Since he asked for the 'general pausa' in their strange routine he hanged out more with his friends, and lived as he dreamed he should. She was never part of his pleasant part of experience and some drinking and story telling never covers their… whatever makes them unable to cooperate.

Walking in the sleeping city hours before the sun comes up just after an awesome party, night with his friends, the ones that were always there for him the strange feeling that he mistook something, the lack of something elusive thing danced around him.

He laughed.

Stopped in the middle of the still clay grey street, sleepy quiet houses besides him the night full of stories to tell yet tired from the party all in the air and he just stood there laughing wholehearted-ly.

The thought that he maybe missed her presence made him laugh like nothing in weeks. The recognition didn't slapped him in the face, didn't washed out his heart or head t just stepped next to him waved a delicate small yet pretty hand then left.

Just like her.

And he laughed.

Because this was reality and they never got along and he must be drunk to miss her.

* * *

 _A.N._

 _I'm sorry it's just I wanted to write something about Hungary and Romania and some strange atmosphere I have sometimes. Attention: it's not romance._

 _But of course you can read it as you wish._

 _Thank you for reading  
Have a nice day :)_


	2. to hell and back

Yes she was selfish and spoiled and stubborn and way too problematic for anyone and she had to follow a set of rules, a ridiculous moral code where she cannot be honest, where she has to act all day long and she was never one to be patient or quiet when something bothered her. Yet she have to gulp all these idiot things down even if it gags her, even if she's chocking on it because she's a boundless soul, one living for freedom, one valuing liberty, self liberty way more than anyone around her and she has to keep shut the up all day long, all week long, all month long and she cannot, she's suffocating, she's dying…

She was cracking up she almost lost this senseless battle between her and the world she has to work in, live in, smile in, act in when suddenly she remembered the only person whom she would gladly drag down to hell with herself, whom she would grasp so tight all the way down they would almost die before they end up there, but just barely, so they can still get every little bit of suffering and agony she does.

Yes, she had the perfect person in mind when she was searching for someone to empty herself, empty her head and then continue with this suffering life she had chosen.

Deep down she knew it was her last cry for help from the heavens, because asking him if he wanted to talk and catch up with their non-existing frenemyship was absurd just as absurd as asking a poisonous snake to bite you without poison. She was going crazy and she lost her good senses that was sure, yet she sent the message, and laughed at her own desperation.

She had fallen deep, deep, deep down searching the company of the only person she would gladly strangle with her bare hands.

The other side of her deep conscience knew it was nothing miraculous. She was suffering and did what she always did, sharing the fare amount of sh*t life throw at her with the person who had known it the most. The one who would just listen, no advise, no comfort, no friendly sympathy. Someone who would just listen and enjoy her misery and because of that she could be mad at him.

Someone who would just listen, saying nothing, only listen to her, to her real thoughts, to her inner struggle of everyday work, to _her_ misery and not the act, the mask she wears, not the false beauty she shows because she _has_ to.

He never saw her as anything wonderful, always insulting her, always laughing at her face. Who cares?

If she can be herself, even just for a little, and let all those things out it worth it.

Even if it means the company of someone she would gladly see suffering as herself.

She didn't believe her eyes at his reply.

First she thought he was joking. Heck she thought _SHE_ was joking… But he was quick to answer and just as irritating as ever. Yet the heavens answered her last pray.

They met in a small pub, drank a little and she talked and talked and talked and he was laughing and mocking her and laughing and drinking and not saying a single comforting word, not a friendly smile, just pure wicked joy at her misfortune.

She emptied herself and left.

They never agreed to meet again.

Yet after two or three months she was fed up again, and she texted and he replied, and they went out again and she was grateful for her brain for coming up with this idiot idea. And would she be drunk she would admit being grateful for this idiot who replied and listened. But that never happened and never will.

They have rules.

No friendliness.

No sincere smiles that brightens up one's day.

No comfort.

No hug.

No nothing.

Just bickering like they did, and will always.

And he agrees, and she laughs and they argue a little and then laugh.

She never asks about him.

He never talks about himself.

They are strangers with a wicked history. And she wouldn't change it.

One year slips through her fingers and they are still talking.

Life get heavier, work turns to torture and she catches herself waiting for their meetings.

So she looks into her mirror and smiles. She's going insane again, as he would say but it's just the old trick, the timeless method of getting closer to someone and she laughs because they will never be close so she turns around and closes her door to head out to the night and meet him.

Nothing changes.

Another year is over and he tells to stop.

Nothing new.

She was surprised he hadn't called it off sooner. It was way too generous of him. And she made it clear that she is indeed using him as her personal trash where she can empty her sh*tful life.

She was surprised he agreed to all her insane conditions.

This whole thing was too absurd to last long. To be honest she was waiting for this. Making small bets with herself when will he fed up or get bored with her.

So she didn't opposed.

It should have been the first thing he said.

After three month she gets fed up again but she plans a vacation for herself and packs up without a word.

Time flies and she thinks about him only when she's cursing the world. It's an old habit, using his name to make up new curses.

Nothing new.

She gets frustrated, tired but she never texts him again because he said so. And he never calls her because they were never close, just fighting.


	3. this

Life sucks and her work gets more and more unbearable, colleges sabotaging each other, bosses taking out their fare share of stress on the employees, someone asks her out but she refuses out of habit, she would never drink with them, because that would just bring back unnecessary memories, and she has so much to do, so many works, plans undone she just doesn't feel like it and they hate her because she's gorgeous but so damn strange and different and she knows it, and she hates it even more, not that she would change, not that changing would help anyone.  
But time passes and slowly, she makes friends, real ones even at this strange workplace and she enjoys their company and they are just too good to be true.  
She never had any real long lasting friendship with anyone because she was raised to stand on her own, always prepared and that's mostly what everyone hates in her but not them, they sort of like her because she's independent, because she will not back down even if it's futile, she holds her ground.  
Felix is as strange as she is and they don't even understand how they did not meet sooner but then she remembers that drinking nights were always out of her routine and they laugh and gosh did she miss someone who would understand, who would listen and know everything from the smallest comment and he's kind and funny and understands the struggle, he has the same struggle day by day and it's a true miracle.

One day Felix invites her to a small night out and she has no valid reason to say no aside from old habit so she agrees and he mentions something about old friends and what not, and she shrugs it off because that's normal for others and she got used to it.  
She arrives a little late, because she just couldn't get herself to arrive without an excuse, she really had things to do, and there's about a dozen people so first she thinks it's a different group, because they are so noise, gosh, her ears are already ringing. It's a small pub and they are crowded, and she's just about to leave when Felix waves and grins and shouts something so she sighs and joins them with a reluctant smile and the others are cheering that she finally joined them because Felix never stops talking about her and it's so strange she's real and all. Her head gets a little fuzzy with all that sudden talking, hugging, welcome kisses on the cheeks, plus the alcohol and the heat, so she excuses herself after an hour to get some fresh air from the dusty night road that runs in front of the pub.  
As she searches her bag for a cigarette, she bumps into someone who probably also came to catch some oxygen. She apologizes without looking up, now searching for the lighter when a strangely familiar voice cracks up next to her.  
" Nothing like the fresh air, isn't it?"  
She lifts her head to see Vlad in front of her. She doesn't bother to grimace as a reaction so just puts her cigarette in her mouth and answers as she lights it.  
" Fresh and clean as always. "  
They look at each other for two long minute, occasionally dragging a sip from the smoking stick in their hand. Finally Vlad cracks his throat.  
" Guess you're doing well."  
" Could say. The usual."  
" Well you don't text me so I guess it' better."  
" You can't convince me you miss it."  
" Of course not."  
Long strange silence sat between the two. She has some irrational and crazy thought again, dragging him down to a different hell with her but she wants to keep her promises. So she waits. He seems like he's considering something utterly unbelievable as well since his face is unreadable and clouded.  
" You're alone here?" he finally asks and she sends him daggers.  
" With a friend from work and his gang."  
He raises his eyebrow in disbelief but she just shrugs her shoulder.  
" Turns out he was suffering next to me the whole time. He's a bit crazy but the best I could ask for."  
" So he's a friend from work with benefits?"  
" I don't even want to know why did you ask this."  
" First I was about to say something about the crazy part."  
" Please don't. I don't want to know your opinion about him. "  
" That, you made crystal clear every time."  
" Huh…?"  
" That you don't want to know my opinion about anything."  
She looks at him with foggy eyes then drags one hand down her face.  
" It's no fair you're this sober."  
He only blinks for a second then smirks.  
" Don't tell me you're already wasted. That's a surprise."  
" Once again I didn't ask for a remark."  
" So your new friends outdrank you?"  
" Nah, they just smothered me with affection."  
" That is one hard thing to believe."  
" Just because we are on bad terms, others may like me."  
" It's more like strange terms."  
" Come again?"  
Vlad looks at her but when he sees that she actually didn't hear the last thing he said, bites back his thoughts. He must be drunk.  
" Anyway won't they get offended that you escaped them after they showered you with their love?"  
" Don't think so. There's like an army of them in there, they won't even notice I came out for a second."

Once again the silence was back but this time she didn't think about anything, just let her mind dance on that strange line of dream and reality and something that's just strange. She simply tried to focus on one thing, but her attention was weak. Her mind only processed the dance of the smoke she created and there was a dull recognition that her cigarette is nearing its end when Vlad's voice stirred her.

" Why haven't you texted?"  
She has to blink to process the question, and reaches for her bag again. Once the next stick is hanging from her mouth and she's lighting it she answers.  
" You asked me not to."  
" That never stopped you before."  
" And why did you accept?"  
" Wha-?"  
" The first time. Why did you respond at all? "  
" Cause I'm not a jerk to ignore a message from an old acquaintance."  
" Why would I be an old acquaintance? "  
" Why would you have my text address?"  
" Touche. But you still could have declined it from the beginning. Heck I thought you would."  
" I don't mind the unexpected unlike others. "  
" So what, you're trying to tell me to text you again?"  
" No. I'm not trying anything."  
She took a long sip and let out the smoke slow and long, almost loosing herself in the dance of that thin material.  
" I'm asking why you didn't. "  
" I like to keep my promises. "  
" Promise?"  
" Why is it so hard to believe that I would respect your request?"  
" Because it's you we are talking about."  
" You just wanted to say us didn't you?"  
" No."  
" It would have fitted more…"  
He looks at her and sees how misty her eyes are, probably the alcohol adding up with tiredness, or rather exhaustion. It's a strange night he decides.  
" Is there even a thing like us?"  
" Dunno… Probably."  
He's slowing down his reaction to remain cool and collected. He's supposed to be the sober one.  
" Even you don't believe that."

She looks him dead in the eye and it's really strange, because for once he can see so deep inside them it's almost rude. Almost. So he stares and explores.

" There's a definition for everything so I think if we searched for long enough there would be a term for our… thing." She speaks but he barely hears her, completely engrossed with the eye connection.  
" If you say so… But it starts to sound as if you want some definition for this. "  
" Would that be bad?"  
" Just boring."  
" Just to clarify you were the one bringing this up."  
" Define this."

Without breaking the stare she blows the smoke in his face forcing him to close his eyes.

" This. "

Her voice is plain, not even quiet or overflowing with emotions, it almost hurts him. Almost too sober for her clouded expression. But that's her.

" Aren't your friends missing you?"  
" I still didn't clear my head."  
" You clearly won't, since you passed that limit hours before."  
" Want me to leave that badly?"

It's a challenge and the ultimate clarification of _this_. Both of them knows, both of them waiting for the other to make a step, any, either forward or backwards because this is something new, some place they never went, and they aren't even sure they want to. They stare at each other again for long moments then he finally grins finding the ground they both know so well.

" You must be pretty f*cking drunk if you even ask me if I want you gone, when you know my answer perfectly well. "

There. It's still the unknown and something terrifyingly new but at least they found the usual way to discover it, through bickering and fighting, arguing and competing. As usual.


End file.
